Newly Found Hope, Newly Found Family
by FandomNutter
Summary: At 41, Harry Potter's life couldn't be worse. With all of his loved ones dead, what is there left to live for? Unwillingly deaged and sent back to Halloween 1981, not even /he/ could imagine what a (not-so-)simple bout of accidental magic could do... although, being the Master of Death probably had something to do with it—Oh, and Death's a girl, apparently. *UNDER (slow) REWRITE*
1. Prologue

**Hello peoples!**

 **This is my first try at writing a HPxAvengers fic, and it was basically a plotbunny that attacked me at 2 in the morning and wouldn't let me sleep. I have little to no plot, and the timeline is all over the place at the moment.**

 **So _please_ tell me how I went!**

 **BTW: Chapter 1 should be up in the next few weeks. (I think . . .)**

 **A/N: HOLY GUACAMOLE GUMBALLS! *jaw drops* Wow . . . 80 followers and 37 favourites in _3_ _days?_ This isn't even the first chapter** — **it's the _Prologue_. . . **

**( . . .Not that I'm complaining or anything . . . . .)**

* * *

 **Newly Found Hope, Newly Found Family**

 **Prologue**

Four years ago, Harry Potter thought that everything—finally, _finally_ —was ok. There was no more Voldemort, no more Death Eaters, no more life-threatening challenges that he had to overcome, no more expectations, no more 'The Chosen One', no more fighting, no more _death_. Finally, _finally_ , he was Just Harry. Sure, people still knew his name, and he had the occasional oggler when he went to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade (or any public place in general) but people no longer _stared_. They looked, but it wasn't the same as _staring_. Instead, they glanced, subtly pointed and muttered things like "look, it's Harry Potter—remember him? He fought in the War with your uncle." And that— _that_ was the main reason people no longer stared; because he wasn't the only hero anymore. There were others—many, many, others—some had perished, some had lived, but they all received equal amounts of recognition, Harry taking a significant portion of that for being the one to strike the killing blow, but he was no longer the only one 'under the spotlight'. He had a wife, three beautiful kids, a successful job and his friends. Life, Harry had thought, was good.

How horribly, dreadfully, terrifyingly _wrong_ he had been.

Rowle, Travers, Rookwood, Mulciber and the Lestrange brothers. All six had somehow evaded capture during the Ministry's crackdown after the battle of Hogwarts. All had lied in wait for years—waiting for what, Harry didn't care to find out.

He didn't care—he _couldn't_. Not anymore. There was nothing to care _about_. Those six men, they had killed them.

. . . Ginny . . .

. . . Al . . .

. . . Jamie . . .

. . . Lily . . .

. . . Teddy . . .

. . . Hermione . . .

. . . _All_ of the Weasleys . . .

. . . Luna . . .

. . . Neville . . .

. . . McGonagall . . .

. . . Hagrid . . .

 ** _. . . Everyone . . ._**

He'd retaliated, of course, but there had been no sense of relief once he'd killed them. Because there was no-one left for them to hurt.

He was left to bury them. One by one. Piece by piece, he felt his heart break. Even now, a year later, he still felt the tight band of grief around his chest, still felt the ice cold dagger of loss twist itself deep within his soul when he woke and remembered and _realized_ that it wasn't just some twisted dream—it had _happened_ , it was _real_ , they were _gone_ and they were _never coming back_.

Harry realized, belatedly, as he stared at the cracked and peeling paint on the ceiling of his room at the Leaky Cauldron—because he _couldn't_ go back to his house, not yet—maybe not ever—that they had won. In this twisted game of theirs, he had lost. They had won, and in doing so, they had _destroyed_ him.

He'd lost his job, his family, his friends, his mentors, _everything_ that he'd cared about, was gone. He had nothing. Nothing to own. . . .

. . . Nothing to lose. . . .

It was a dangerous way to think, he knew, but he couldn't help it.

Not anymore . . .

Tom found him the next morning, laying on his bed. Eyes closed, Harry Potter greeted Death with a smile on his face. . . .

* * *

 **Sooooo . . .*dodges rotten tomato*—yeah, I know I killed Harry—*ducks watermelon*—stop trying to kill me! you'll find out next chapter!**

 **Nutter Out!  
** ***screams***


	2. Meeting Death

**Hello again!**

 **(Sorry, it's a bit late, and a _lot_ shorter than I anticipated, but I just couldn't get the chapter to be any longer...)**

 **P.S: HOLY GUACAMOLE GUMBALLS YOU GUYS! _THANK YOU_ for all of the Favs, Alerts, Views and Reviews! I am GOBSMACKED (in case you haven't noticed...)**

 **In any case, ON WITH THE CHAPTER!**

* * *

 **Newly Found Hope, Newly Found Family**

 **Chapter 1: Meeting Death**

 _Well . . ._ Harry thought to himself as he looked around at dark, misty cave that he'd found himself in, _this is definitely_ not _Kings Cross Station. . . ._

"So then, where am I?" he asked aloud. He was hardly expecting a response, so he didn't feel _too_ embarrassed when he jumped a foot in the air and _squeaked_ when someone answered his rhetorical question.

"You're in Limbo, Magic-Man." Came a woman's voice, "Or you could call it Judgement, or The Gateway, The Fork In The Road, etc. etc. so on and so forth."

"Who are you?"

"The name's Hela Lokidöttir," the woman replied as she stepped out from behind a stalagmite. Harry blinked; she was young, or at least looked the part, with black hair hanging down to the middle of her back in messy curls, a thin face with high cheekbones and a daintily pointed chin. Her skin was pale, contrasting sharply with the black cloak that she wore over a silk dress that was a dark green with gold trim. What caught Harry off guard however, was the fact that the left half of her face and neck was _blue_. Her eyes were bi-colored as well; her right an impossible shade of midnight blue, her left a glowing red that reminded him eerily of Voldemort. But while his had shone with madness, hers shone with knowing amusement which almost made him want to shift his feet like a guilty child. She stuck out her left hand for a handshake, catching him off guard once again at such a common, everyday gesture in such an _un_ common, _not_ -everyday place. Harry noticed, quite belatedly, that her hand was blue as well.

"Harry Potter" he said, shaking her offered hand,

"I know," she said with a smirk, "You're my Master after all."

Harry's eyes practically fell out of his head as his hand dropped limply to his side. " _Death?"_

"In the flesh . . . in a manner of speaking," she added with a shrug.

"But I thought Death was, uh . . ."

"A guy?" she supplied with a casually raised eyebrow

"Uh, well— . . . yeah, basically." He mumbled, quite pathetically in his opinion.

"Eh, that's probably because when I was younger I used to go around scaring the wits out of the Midguardians—that's you guys—by looking like this." Without further ado, Hela's face rippled like water, colors and shapes warping and changing, before settling and revealing a skeleton in her place. When Harry simply stared, she sighed, Harry watching in somewhat morbid fascination as the skeleton somehow managed to roll its non-existent eyes. "It's _me_ , you troll-brain." The skeleton rippled and warped again before Hela reappeared. "I can shapeshift, kind of like that Tonks woman that you knew, except I can also shift into animals as well."

"Oh"

"'Oh'?" Hela's eyebrow raised once more as she folded her arms across her chest. "Usually I get a bit more of a reaction than just 'oh', I'm almost disappointed."

"What kind of reaction do you usually get?" Harry asked

"Fainting, screaming, crying, laughing hysterically, and occasionally a never-ending constant stream of questions. To be honest with you, the Great Merlin was a chatterbox."

Harry felt his eyes try to escape their sockets for the second time in what had to be less than ten minutes.

"And he had big ears . . ."

"Seriously?" Cue skeptically raised eyebrow

" _Yes_." Hela was getting impatient, so Harry decided it was high time for him to bite his tongue. Bad things happen to people who piss off Death after all. . . . "As I was saying before we got off track," She said, "You are here, in Limbo, or whatever you want to call it, because you took the completely stupid, yet completely understandable option of suicide. Before you ask, the actual reason why you're here and not already in the afterlife with the rest of your friends and family is because believe it or not, Heimdall—he's a God—took pity on you and decided that you deserve another chance."

"Another— but I don't— Wait, _God?!_ —What—" Harry struggled to make a coherent sentence after Hela not-so-gently dropped that bombshell on him.

"While my powers _do_ include something that could be considered time travel," Hela continued as if her Master wasn't spluttering like a fish out of water, "it's limited to the time of death of important people to you, possibly slightly before if I push it. That, and I can only take your soul back. Now, considering when you could land, I think you'd like to save as many people as you possibly can, so that means going back to the somewhat proverbial beginning."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll be going back to Halloween 1981, in three, two—"

"No, wait—"

"—one."

Harry Potter's world once again went black.

* * *

 **...I feel so _evil_...**

 **BTW, in case any of you are wondering, my description of Hela is taken from _Hathanhate_ 's Super Awesome Epic-length Fic _Teeth_ , which is also a HPxAvengers fic. **


End file.
